Monday, 5 January 2015

A Snowy Weekend

Last night, I returned from a long weekend spent with my sister at our Uncle's and Aunt's place. They live in a big old house in a picturesque village about 1 1/2 hours by train from here. The house originally belonged to a baron but then changed hands (and inhabitants) several times, until my Uncle bought it some years ago. Restoring it to its former glory plus allowing for all mod cons has been their task ever since - successfully, I may add, although it is the kind of work that is never really finished.The village is by the way the same one mentioned on my blog here and here; the house you'll see in a few pictures now, which was the view from my window, is the one where Ruth Ozan's Aunt Sofie (mentioned in her book "Forget-me-not") used to live until she died a few years ago.On the day we travelled there, much of the snow had already gone in our home town, but there was still quite a lot left out in the country, as you can see in this view from my room:

My room:

Can you spot what I saw when I looked out of my window on Saturday morning?

It's Mauz, one of three cats living with my Uncle and Aunt.We went for a walk on top of the hill behind the house you see in the second picture. About half way up, you come across the former school house (today the village hall) and the rectory.

On top of the hill is a small church, built in the 19th century on the site of an 11th-century one.

The church is surrounded by the village's cemetery, enclosed by a wall. On the wall, his back facing the beautiful view across the countryside, sits a hooded figure:

He represents Death, of course - but although the skeleton legs and arms may appear scary to some, he is actually a very touching character. His upturned head (with no face inside the folds of his hood, just a deep golden shine of polished bronze) is supposed to mean that the souls of all dead go "upwards", and nobody really needs to fear him.Come inside now:

Two Christmas trees, a huge nativity scene spreading all across the floor, and angels in the air above it all - you could tell this place means a lot to the community from this village and the surrounding hamlets.Do you remember that I posted about, quite by chance, having come across part of St. James' Way? (That post is here.) Well, El Camino de Santiago leads through this village, too, and the church is an important stop for pilgrims. This shell, the symbol of St. James, is in the middle of the floor between the nave and the altar:

A house next to the church is dedicated to pilgrims, who can stay the night there.Going down the hill on a narrow path behind the church, this is what you find:

But that is not all. Climbing down the steps to the pond and turning round, you find yourself in front of a "Lourdes grotto", built in 1886 as a shrine to Mary. I was never Catholic, but I remember well how fascinated I was of this pond and the grotto when I first saw it as a child, on a summer's day when my cousin showed me what looked to me like a secret, overgrown path into the shadowy dark green forest, and sparkling shiny bits of glass worked into the grotto's walls. Now, with the eyes of an adult, I must admit I find it rather ghastly.

The forest is as beautiful in the snow as it is in summer:

Not a tomb in the woods, but - I think - a marker for those who come this way for religious reasons.

Walking back down the hill, I found a frozen rosebud too beautiful to pass without taking a picture. The Christmas tree stands in front of the village shop.

You can see the church on top of the hill as we made our circular way around the bottom of the hill until we reached the house again, and saw the church from the other side.

In the afternoon, it started to snow again. Our Uncle took us to the nearest town (about 10 km away) to visit a museum. On the way there, the roads were still clear. When we had been inside the museum for a while and happened to look out of the window, we could hardly believe what we saw: everything was white again!Thankfully, our Uncle is a very good driver, and took us home safely in spite of the world having become all white, with nearly no distinction possible between roads and fields, ground and sky.I took this picture from my room as soon as we arrived:

We were seriously thinking about what we'd do if it was going to keep snowing at this pace; maybe we could not get into town the next day to take our train home. But when I woke up the next morning, this is what I saw:

It was no problem to get to the train station, and now I can look back at this cosy, snowy weekend with delicious (and plenty of) food, interesting stories, two museum visits and some walks.

21 comments:

It all looks wonderfully picturesque and kind of romantic with the snow (I like looking at it, just not walking/driving in it...). Love your landscape picture next to the Death sculpture (which is also very interesting). A friend of mine has walked El Camino or part of it but I'm not sure how far north he started. I also watched a Danish documentary series about that pilgrimage road a couple of years ago on TV.

It was both, Monica - picturesque and romantic. But like you, I like snow most when I can look at it from a warm, dry place :-) For our walks, though, I was very well equipped and did not feel cold or wet.

Dear Meike,I love this post from beginning to end! Honestly, you made me feel as if I had been along with you! What fantastic photos! And the grotto, you find it ghastly? I would love to see it! Yes, I very much remember the post about the St. James Way, and that the shell is a symbol of the pilgrimage way.Once again, I very much liked this post, you have once again made me want to visit your part of the world!

I'm new to reading your blog (lured by your comments on YP's blog...) Your pictures took me along on your trip and I enjoyed it all very much! I presume you are in Germany? Much of your scenery looks very much like my western Washington State with its evergreen trees. Wish we had the snow but even our winters are usually just rain. Wondered what it says over the church door, found the figure of death to be a bit creepy.Also, loved looking at your mum's socks on Etsy and of course simply must have them. She is knitting me a special pair in earth tones - I can hardly wait!!

Oh, so you are the "mystery shopper" my Mum asked me about! She told me your real name and asked me whether I know you from blogging, but I didn't know it was you :-)Thank you for not only ordering socks from my Mum's Etsy Shop, but also for stopping here at my blog to read and comment - Welcome to My Mental Library!

Forgot to tell you what the two inscriptions over the doors say. The first one says "Und ich werde hintreten zum Altare Gottes" - "And I shall step in front of God's altar", and the second one "Ich bin erfreut, wenn man mir sagt, in das Haus des Herrn werden wir gehn" - "I am pleased when I'm told that we shall enter the house of the Lord".

Something delightful about being in good company, inside, in snowy weather. It all looks so very cold but I think I would probably have enjoyed the grotto most. I wonder why you find it ghastly? Although, having said that, some grottoes can be pretty damp and dark. Is this what you meant? The church I think would have been my favourite bit. it seems a bold idea to have a statue of Death there. I think I would probably find it frightening, to be honest.

The grotto is not damp and dark, but it is not a natural grotto; it is man-made, and clumsily so, and not very tasteful, I'm afraid. Like I said, I was very much impressed by it when I was a kid, mainly because of the shiny bits of coloured glass worked into the walls, and I suppose if it "speaks" to someone on a religious level, they probably feel the kind of wonder and awe I felt back then. As I've never been Catholic and therefore do not consider this a place of prayer for myself, but an expression of faith that I respect, even if I do not share it.The Death statue is really not creepy at all, just... unexpected. Death looks as if raising his non-existent face imploringly above, as if there was such longing in him that induces him to play on his violin.

Thank you, Kristi! I have since found out more about the statue. He is actually not supposed to be Death, but a Benedictine monk named Maurus. He is facing the church instead of the view, and he is not playing his violing anymore; the bow rests in his lap and the strings are broken, because he is dead. Where his mind used to be, with all its thoughts and ideas, worries and hope, is nothing, just a shimmer of gold to represent his soul. The artist was 88 years old when he made this. He used to be pastor at this very church for decades, and says to have based the statue on the last line of a hymn that reads "The home for the soul is up in the light".

In the article I found, the artist is quoted as to have been thinking about how to depict the concept of the soul (either in a painting or as a sculpture) for years, and this is what he came up with after all that contemplation, and based on the hymn.

My first thought about the sculpture was that it reminded me of Death as depicted/personalized by Terry Pratchett in his Discworld fantasy novels (some of them). Ever read any of those? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Discworld#Death (Not sure if we ever saw him play the violin, but if you did read any of those books you'll probably get what I mean.)

What an enchanting post in so many ways. When I saw the frozen rose I actually forgot about the comment I had formulated about the figure at the cemetery and the grotto. I think the frozen rose is very very poignant. Grottos are so often, in any country that I've visited, tawdry affairs. I would love to visit the statue.